


there will be silence

by azurrys



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: During Canon, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Overstimulation, Possession, Riding, Spit As Lube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-10 22:50:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15959246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azurrys/pseuds/azurrys
Summary: Robin knows that he has a connection with the fell dragon. He just hadn’t thought it would manifest this way.





	there will be silence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [decay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/decay/gifts).



> Hello! I hope this is okay since it wasn't linked in your requests, but I went hunting around after receiving the assignment and I found a [letter](https://decay-ao3.dreamwidth.org/339.html) on your journal. I fell a little in love with the first prompt you had up so I went ahead with it. My sincerest thanks and apologies to the person the letter was meant for; please forgive me for appropriating it!
> 
> Also thank you to R for helping to beta the fic, and to R and L for all their plotting help plus being the most supportive friends anyone could ever ask for <3

The first time Robin notices, he’s alone.

Darkness has long since fallen. Dinner came and went, though Robin can’t say for sure what exactly he ate, and the bustle of their camp has settled into deep silence. Aside from the distant footsteps of the patrol around the perimeter, there’s no hint of its usual life, but Robin doesn’t mind. The peace makes it easier for him to gather his thoughts, and working by candlelight has never bothered him. He doesn’t fear the dark.

_…There you are._

The words curl into his mind, leaving a faint chill in their wake. Robin whips around, sword already drawn and poised to attack before he realises he’s looking at nothing.

The tent is empty behind him. When he cautiously lifts the flap to look out, there’s nobody there. He peers out into the emptiness for a long while, wondering if Tharja has taken up her old habits again, but he doesn’t see even a hint of her. He usually would; she doesn’t try very hard to stay hidden.

What had that been, then? Some figment of his imagination, most likely. His paranoia must be getting the better of him, but he supposes there’s little he can do about it at this point. They are preparing to slay a god, after all. Shaking his head, Robin sheathes his sword again, returning to the map laid out on the desk. The army’s formation is in disarray on its surface now; he’d knocked over some of the indicators in his flight earlier. Sighing, he picks one up to return it to its place.

_I know you can hear me._

His hand stills where it’s poised above the map, and it takes him a few seconds before he can gather his thoughts enough to remember where the marker should go. “Perhaps I _am_ staying up too late,” Robin mutters to himself. He’ll ask Libra about it privately, later. He certainly can’t tell Chrom he’s hearing things. He doesn’t even want to think of the kind of panic that would ensue.

_Do you really think pretending will make me go away?_

The words are accompanied by the echo of a faint, mocking laugh in his mind. Snatching up the candle, Robin whirls around—again, there’s nothing there.

But there doesn’t need to be. It’s sinking in now, and he recognises that voice. His hands are shaking, breaths coming too fast as he glances around the empty tent, mind racing.

He doesn’t want to think of it; doesn’t want to give that kind of satisfaction to the presence lurking in his mind. But he knows—he _knows_. He’s not just hearing things; he’s hearing _him_. Robin already knows that they have a… connection, after all.

He just hadn’t thought it would manifest this way.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Robin tries to focus on shutting it out. He can’t have _him_ in his head whispering insidious thoughts; he can’t waver. Not now. That’s what _he_ would want, and Robin isn’t about to give in.

_Is that so? You would stand against me? Well, no matter… let us play, then. I will break your resolve yet._

_After all, you and I… we are the same._

The laugh sounds again, accompanied by a little flare of pain on his hand that almost makes him drop the candle. Sheer instinct has Robin reaching for his sword again before he sees the drop of wax, and his shout hitches in his throat.

He waits for several seconds, tense and frozen, but hears nothing else. Grimacing, Robin slowly puts the candle down, reaching up to rake his free hand through his hair.

The voice is no longer speaking, but the dead silence is even more foreboding.

 

 

The fell dragon sneaks into his mind without warning. When Robin is strategising for the next battle, the whispers like to add in their opinion: _Fragile. That would fall apart in a second. You will never win with that._ Robin does his best to ignore the voice’s attempts to seed doubt. He knows that the fell dragon cannot actually see through his eyes, no matter what _he_ would have him believe. His strategies have endured, and they would never have if the fell dragon had such an advantage over them. The words are spoken to unsettle him and manipulate him into tactics that would play to _his_ favour.

Still, Robin finds himself wondering at times if the dragon catches glimpses. After all, _he_ is always particularly noisy whenever Robin tries to work out Chrom’s position.

_Should you not place him further forward? …Ah, wait, I see. You have chosen a scapegoat instead to die in his place. How wonderful! I knew you had that in you… if only you were willing to embrace it._

Sometimes, the presence isn’t in whispers. Robin finds himself considering scenarios he knows he would never have of his own volition—scenarios where he sacrifices a member of the army for the sake of a roaring victory, or where he orders a frontal charge for the sake of speed despite the casualties it would incur. He always catches himself in time and strikes them from his list of possibilities, but the thoughts still linger.

It scares him that he would even consider such strategies feasible, even for a second. Of course it’s due to the fell dragon’s presence in his mind, but…

_You and I… we are the same._

…Is it, really? Or is it in his own nature?

After all, when he stands on the battlefield looking over his fallen enemies, he feels a sense of accomplishment. He can’t say that it only started after the fell dragon’s whispers, because he knows it didn’t. And every time he strikes down another Risen, another soldier, another human—

_I knew you had that in you._

“Robin!”

Chrom’s voice knocks him back to reality, and Robin has only barely registered the urgency in it before Chrom is charging forward, intercepting the Risen’s claws. Chrom’s counter is swift and fatal, but for a split second Robin’s world narrows to the streak of red trailing down Chrom’s arm before his rational senses snap back into place.

“Chrom, fall back!” he shouts. “You’re too far ahead! We’ll get separated from the main force!”

“You went ahead first!” Chrom yells back, hacking down another Risen. Robin immediately moves in to back him up, finishing the Risen off with a strike of lightning, but his mind is reeling.

Chrom is right. He remembers now how he’d split off from the rest of the army, fighting through one Risen after another without so much as looking back. He’d known that he could take them down, and so he had. Stopping hadn’t so much as occurred to him.

He remembers how _good_ each kill felt, how—

“Fall back!” he repeats sharply, ignoring the growing fear at the edge of his senses.

— _right_.

Chrom obeys without hesitation this time, but Robin glances away to avoid his gaze as they fall towards the backline, regrouping with the rest of the army. Lissa is running up to heal them almost before he’s given the order, and while he watches the wound on Chrom’s arm seal over with magic, a familiar laugh echoes in his mind.

_Such a pity. Just a little deeper, and…_

“Shut up,” Robin hisses, nails digging into his palm.

In his mind, the image of blood dripping down the Mark of the Exalt keeps flashing past, over and over.

It doesn’t bear thinking about.

 

 

In the aftermath of the battle, it’s easy to surround himself with so many people that no one person can really speak to him. Robin’s found that it’s often easier to hide in crowds than it is when alone, and more than that, being in the thick of the action makes the whispers harder to hear.

Right now, more than ever, he needs that.

“Robin.”

Chrom’s voice is soft and cautious, but Robin still freezes up when he hears it. He takes a moment to smooth out his expression before turning around, trying not to focus on the bandage around his husband’s arm.

_Such a pity, such a pity._

“Yes, Chrom?” He makes sure that his voice is perfectly neutral, giving nothing away. He needs to keep it that way.

“Do you have a moment?”

Robin has his expression schooled into complete calm, but the thoughts are tumbling around in his mind so quickly he can barely keep up. Has Chrom noticed? Still, he manages to pull up a smile, forcibly setting aside his turmoil for a moment. “For you, always,” he replies.

Chrom’s eyes visibly soften at the words, and it almost makes Robin feel a little guilty. Chrom beckons him towards their tent, and Robin has scarcely stepped inside before Chrom is drawing him closer, settling a protective arm around his waist. “Robin, is everything all right?” Chrom whispers. Robin tenses a little, but Chrom thankfully doesn’t seem to notice. “Earlier today, you—”

Robin doesn’t realise he’s moving until their lips crash together again, and this time the kiss is hungry and heated. _Desperate_. Robin sees the surprise reflected in Chrom’s eyes for a brief second before it fades, replaced by the intensity Robin has always loved. They’re both panting when Robin finally pulls away, hands already scrabbling at Chrom’s tunic, fiddling with his belt.

_What is this? Do you think indulging in his body will strengthen your fragile bonds? Your struggle means nothing! You will never—_

“I need you,” Robin blurts out, voice coming out a little more desperate than he meant as he tries to speak over the fell dragon’s incessant whispers. “Please, Chrom.”

Chrom’s reply is what Robin can only describe as a growl. It only takes minutes for them to make short work of each other’s clothes, and Robin doesn’t care that he heard something tear—he needs it all gone, _now_. Somewhere along the way Chrom has shoved him down onto the bedroll, and he whines aloud when the solid warmth of Chrom’s thigh bumps against his half-hard cock, bucking his hips up impatiently.

“Feisty,” Chrom murmurs, and Robin answers by sinking his teeth into Chrom’s neck, sucking hard as the coppery taste fills his mouth. Chrom hisses, and Robin moans when he feels the large hand close around his cock, stroking rough and fast. But it’s not enough—he can still hear the fell dragon’s outrage in the back of his mind, and the sensations aren’t enough to block them out.

“ _More_.” Robin bites out the word, spreading his legs wider in both permission and demand. He hisses angrily when Chrom lifts off him instead of answering, reaching out to grab his wrist. “What the _hell_ , Chrom—”

“I’m just getting the oil.” The words would normally be acceptable, even excite him, but for some reason today that just makes his frustration mount.

Yanking Chrom’s hand to his mouth, Robin ignores the way his eyes widen when he sucks messily on his fingers until they’re dripping wet, then impatiently shoves the spit-slick digits against his hole. “ _Well_? Do you need me to hold your hand for this too? I swear, Chrom, you—”

He cuts himself off with a moan when Chrom _finally_ pushes in, releasing Chrom’s wrist and bucking up into the stretch. It’s been long enough that it burns a little, but he doesn’t care. He needs this, needs Chrom inside him, needs to feel full and whole and _good_ for once. He doesn’t realise he’s saying the words out loud until Chrom groans audibly, withdrawing his fingers and reaching down to pump his stiff, leaking cock roughly. “ _God_ , Robin, you’re going to be the death of me,” he hisses.

Robin opens his mouth to retort, but what comes out is a cut-off cry when he feels the head of Chrom’s dick nudging at his entrance. Somewhere in the back of his mind, _he_ is practically beside himself with fury. _Do you believe you can resist me by allowing that wretched son of Naga to defile you?! Your defiance is meaningless! This body is mine!_

“Well, _tough_ ,” Robin hisses. “If I want to be fucked, I _will_ be, you snake! Do you think it’s the first time?”

Amazingly, the words actually do get _him_ to shut up. Above him, Chrom looks taken aback for a moment, then he breaks into laughter. “No need for insults, Robin. I get it. Be patient—I’ll fuck you, trust me.”

Robin gasps when Chrom instantly makes good on his promise, shoving into him hard and fast. Gods, he’s _missed_ this—missed being fucked so hard he can’t think, world narrowing to the delicious burn and stretch, the rush of pleasure every time Chrom’s cock pushes against his sweet spot. He meets every thrust with equal measure, fingers scrabbling desperately for purchase on Chrom’s back, needy whines spilling unbidden from his lips. His cock is leaking between them, hard and dripping although it hasn’t even been touched.

He can feel himself fast approaching his peak already, driven to the edge by Chrom’s merciless pace and his own desperation. No longer able to resist, he reaches down to stroke and pull at his own cock, palm rubbing rapidly over the head to spread the precome that’s leaked out. “ _Chrom_ —harder, please, I need it, I need more, I—!”

With a low, answering grunt, Chrom slams into his sweet spot head-on, making Robin throw his head back with a cry as his orgasm overwhelms him. His cock jerks hard, spilling a full load between them, and Chrom fucks him straight through his climax—Robin lets out a sharp whine when he feels the thrusts start to slow down, hissing when Chrom withdraws. Releasing his cock, he grips Chrom’s hip tightly.

“What are you doing? Don’t stop, don’t you _dare_!”

“But—” Robin muffles Chrom’s protest with a sloppy kiss, shoving hard at his chest until he sits up. Chrom’s eyes are wide and confused as he stares at Robin, but the emotions are quickly swept away by heat when Robin’s hand closes around his still-hard dick. “God, yeah—right there—”

“Don’t set your sights so low,” Robin gasps. “I’m not just going to jerk you off like an afterthought, and I need _more_.”

Chrom looks lost for a second until Robin lines up his cock with his entrance once more, and then realisation dawns on his face. “Oh gods, are you—didn’t you just—”

Rather than answering with words, Robin slams himself down on Chrom’s cock, voice breaking a little as the painful pleasure sweeps over him. It’s too much, too fast—tears are gathering in the corners of his eyes, his hypersensitive prostate throbbing in protest on each thrust. His cock aches so badly he can’t keep his thoughts together. But that means he can’t hear the whispers; can’t focus on anything but how overstimulated he feels, like his skin is on fire.

“Robin—Robin, I’m going to— _god_!”

Robin cries out when he feels Chrom’s cock swell and jerk inside him seconds before the wet heat overflows, filling him up inside. He can feel it leaking out of him as he frantically fucks himself on Chrom’s dick, the only noise he can hear the sound of skin on skin and his own needy moans, all mixed up with Chrom’s. His cock is fully hard again and the pain has given way to complete pleasure—his breath stutters as he strokes down the shaft rapidly, and when he feels Chrom’s hand joining his to fist his cock, that’s when he loses it.

He’s not sure if he’s screaming, or if he’s hearing the echo of the fell dragon’s fury. What he does know is that the pleasure seems to swallow him whole, dragging him down and lifting him up at the same time, sweeping over him so completely he can feel it in the very tips of his fingers and toes. It’s even more intense than the first time, leaving him at the mercy of the sensations as come spills over their joined hands. His body feels raw and used, and he swears he can feel the heat burning in every inch of his skin.

“Robin?” Chrom’s voice sounds oddly distant. Robin tries to lift his head, wanting to reply, but his body refuses to move. He can’t catch his breath; the world is hazy around him even as he starts to wind down, like his senses are escaping.

His eyes fall shut, and as he drifts away, he realises he doesn’t hear anything anymore—not even a whisper.

 

 

When Robin stirs, it’s still to blissful silence. He’s lying down, and rough fingers are stroking through his hair, gentle and careful; without even opening his eyes, he knows it’s Chrom. He must have blacked out. That’s never happened before, not even on their wedding night when they went all out, but Robin supposes there’s a first for everything. He feels exhausted and sticky and disgusting, but…

It’s been so long since he’s last felt this way that it’s almost foreign, but he feels safe.

“Robin? Are you awake?” Chrom’s voice is low and warm, with a hint of concern. Robin hums in reply, slowly pushing his eyes open to look up into Chrom’s. The answering smile is relieved, and Robin lazily leans up into the contact when Chrom presses a kiss to his lips. “I’m sorry. Did I push you too hard?”

“Don’t apologise,” Robin mumbles, reaching up to sink his hand into Chrom’s hair. “I should probably be the one apologising for pushing _you_ , but anyway, it was exactly what I wanted. Thank you.”

Chrom laughs at that, settling down more comfortably next to him. “Good. I was worried. I mean, not that I didn’t enjoy it, but—” He makes a vague hand gesture, drawing a laugh out of Robin.

“ _I’m_ sorry, for scaring you. There’s no need to worry about me, Chrom. I’m all right.” For once, he means it entirely. He’s not sure why, but the fell dragon is silent. While he doubts it’s the last he’ll hear of the whispers, he can’t help but cling to the momentary peace.

Chrom kisses him again in reply, and while Robin’s more than happy to indulge him, it’s equally obvious that Chrom is trying to work up to something. It’s cute, how panicky Chrom gets when he has something to say that he’s unsure about. Robin wonders if he needs to coax him into relaxing a little first, but a few deep breaths later Chrom seems to have gathered his nerves together. Chrom cups a hand around his cheek, staring him straight in the eye as he says, “Robin. Tell me honestly. Is something bothering you?”

The question makes Robin freeze, and it takes him a moment to quash his guilty conscience. _He noticed_. On one hand Robin is a little ashamed of himself—he’d been so sure he had everything under control, that he’d be able to keep it from Chrom. He hadn’t wanted to scare his husband; Chrom had enough to worry about right now. But on the other hand…

Maybe it’s weak, and maybe it’s selfish, but he’s just a little glad.

Chrom thankfully doesn’t jump to any assumptions about his silence. He just forges on, clearly wanting to get out his entire piece before he loses his nerve. “You’ve been acting a little different lately. Not just in battle earlier, but—in general. You’ve been a little more… intense, I suppose. Did something make you angry? Or do you have something on your mind?

“You know you can come to me about anything. Maybe I’m not very good at solving this sort of thing, but I’ll listen. I can promise you that, Robin.”

Chrom is so very earnest. It makes Robin’s heart ache a little with affection. Leaning in, he takes a soft kiss, rubbing his thumb over Chrom’s cheek. “I’m fine, Chrom,” he answers after a moment, keeping his voice light. “It’s just—you know. What we’re doing. What we’re going to do. Sometimes, I’m not sure if I…”

He stops, struggling for the right words. What does he want to say? There’s so much he isn’t sure about—he wears a perfect façade in front of the army, pretends he knows exactly what he’s saying until he almost fools himself into believing it too. He needs to be someone they can rely on, no matter what.

But deep down, he can’t stop wondering if he’s lost his way. Here he is with their greatest enemy whispering in his mind; warping his self, toying with him like he’s a mouse in a trap. What if he leads them to ruin because he’s too scared? What if Grima possesses him fully, and turns him on them? What if…

“We trust you, Robin.”

Chrom’s voice, sure and steady, breaks through the fog in his mind. Robin blinks owlishly at Chrom, and his husband smiles back, reaching over to brush a stray lock of hair back from his forehead. “We’ll always trust you.” The absolute conviction in Chrom’s voice is humbling. “How many victories have you led us to? I don’t even know anymore, because I’ve stopped counting. I don’t need to. I know I can always believe in you to bring us through, no matter how impossible the task seems. We wouldn’t place our lives in just anyone’s hands. You have nothing to prove to us, Robin. We already know.

“We trust you,” Chrom repeats, voice uncharacteristically soft. His smile is just as gentle when he lifts Robin’s hand to his lips, eyes fixed on his as he brushes a light kiss across the ring on Robin’s finger. “I trust you.”

Robin has to close his eyes against the sudden rush of emotion, drawing a deep, shaky breath. His vision is a little blurry when he opens them again, but if Chrom notices, he doesn’t say anything. “Thank you,” he whispers. “I trust you too. With all my heart.”

The doubts gnawing at his mind are all his own. The fell dragon’s whispers have brought them to the forefront, but they’ve always been there. The difference is that before, Robin always managed to overcome them—because he’s not alone.

It’s been hard to remember between keeping up the façade and ignoring the fell dragon, but Robin still can’t believe he almost forgot the most important thing. He trusts Chrom—trusts them all—more than anything. He trusts the bonds they’ve forged more than his life. After all, that’s why he’s made the decision to end this once and for all. He won’t let the fell dragon continue plaguing their future when the power to stop it lies in his hands.

Naga had described the chance as insignificant, and somewhere deep down Robin has resigned himself to the inevitability of death. But even though the odds aren’t in his favour… if there’s one thing in the world that could tip the scales, it’s the trust and love he has for everyone. The trust they have for him.

He’s not alone.

 _But_ he _is._

The thought flashes by so quickly that it’s barely crossed his mind before it’s gone, but it makes his breath catch. There’s an odd ache in his heart, one that he can’t quite name. Robin’s not even sure if it’s a feeling of his own, or if _he_ is once again making his presence known through wordless ways—but before he can grab hold of it, the moment passes, and the emotion flits away out of reach.

He won’t dwell on it. He can’t. Whatever connection they share, whatever whispers and feelings _he_ slips into his mind… Robin has already made his choice. He’s not sure if it’s the right one, but his heart is set.

Leaning in, he presses another kiss to Chrom’s lips, burning the memory into his mind. The end draws ever closer, but for once, the thought doesn’t fill him with dread. In this moment, with Chrom by his side, he has no fear. Even the hints of whispers stirring in the back of his mind can’t unsettle him.

He’ll live his last moments without regrets, and one day—

_I will break your resolve yet,_ _Grima._

One day, there will be silence.


End file.
